


Deadly Drabbles

by kingozma



Category: Deadly Mistakes, Original Work
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Bad Future, Bad end, Banter, Biting Back, Canon Het Relationship, Doctor Kink, Emotional Abuse, Gaslighting, Gen, Grooming, Hopelessness But Like In A Funny Way, Kidnapping, Love Confessions, Multi, Past Abuse, People Pleasing, Revenge, Sexual Tension, Torture, Villains
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23954677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingozma/pseuds/kingozma
Summary: drabbles/short fics from my crossover baby RP group, deadly mistakes! featuring my ocs and also friends/partners' ocs
Relationships: Rowan Inspector Matthews/Kainashi Namine (Deadly Mistakes), Ryker Smith/Yuuka Kralie (Deadly Mistakes)
Kudos: 1





	1. saturday morning cartoons

“Well… Every supervillain needs a number of things, Snowbelle,” said The Supervillain, rubbing his neck. “A nemesis is one of them.”

“Wait, does that make me the hero?” The Raven King cut in.

The collective response from the married pair came in an overlapping flood - “Oh– My God, no, what– Who said that?”

The Raven King chuckled, eyes wide open, and tucked his hair behind his shoulder again. “No, I know, I was just - very concerned for a moment with your judgment.”

“Are you the hero then? Or is it me?” The Dancer tugged at his husband’s lab coat for a moment. “I’m confused.”

“It’s not that simple!” Groaned The Supervillain, rolling his eyes. “Villains can fight villains too, it’s - it’s a dominance thing!”

“Oh,” said The Raven King.

For a few wonderful seconds, the three had stopped talking

And Ryker turned to Yuuka, the look on his face not necessarily stern. And he asked, “Baby. How… In the hell are we supposed t–”

“What were we talking about again?” asked The Dancer.

“Right, it – it was something. It– RIGHT.” The Supervillain seemed to snap back into character with a determined growl in his voice, “RAVEN KING - the only man who can blow up this orphanage is ME!”

The Raven King answered by wagging his finger with a grin. “貧弱 貧弱!! You think you have what it takes to blow up this orphanage? It’s - a pretty big one, actually, don’t strain yourself.”

… And on they went, shouting back and forth, seeming to come no closer to a conclusion.

And Ryker turned to Yuuka again, pinching his forehead. “ _Baby. How in the hell are we supposed to fix this?_ ”

For once, Yuuka didn’t have a clever answer. There was no plan forming. No gears turning in her head. She answered simply, covering her ears and burying her head in her knees. “I don’t know.”


	2. im drinkinggg soda i HATE.... my MOM...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> local DM villain nan has a hard time with people-pleasing and biting the hand that feeds.
> 
> yes, the master II is a crossover baby involving the master from doctor who. yes my friend M-B's (the master II's creator) meat and brain are massive
> 
> [TW: gore/body horror, emotional abuse]

Just as the Master II had hoped, his effortless message was enough to send Nan dashing down the endless, labyrinthine halls of his current base of operations: Jezebel’s vessel.

A simple smirk over the television in the entry room, a smooth “Well, come find me, then, old friend” triggered a new, scorching defiance in the lonely Tower’s son, but it was manipulable defiance, and this was how everything began to fall into place. Not even Yuuka could stop it, Nan was already disappearing down the corner he saw the screen retreat into - wheeling along on its track in the ceiling - by the time she noticed and thought to call out to him. And she, shutting her eyes tight and gritting her teeth tighter, cursed “ _Fucking idiot_ ” under her breath and swiftly directed the frightened and confused herd down the rightmost hall on the front wall: the one she remembered led to the cockpit.

“It’s fine,” she called behind her as she jogged ahead of the Mistakes, “He’ll be _fine_ , we’ll get him in a bit. He’s done this before.”

He most certainly has not.

* * *

Though The Master II’s face had disappeared from the screen, and said screen had become filled with a softly-buzzing static, Nan’s eyes were locked onto where The Master II’s eyes once were. He even began to see his old companion’s face in the static, overcome by his own rage - he saw The Master II’s face in everything, so was it really any different than usual?

In Nan’s mind, this chase was, in itself, a power struggle. A staring contest of sorts - and whoever broke their gaze first would be left behind. Watching the monitor carefully for any hint of its track getting ready to turn left or right down some door unseen.

When Nan saw the monitor disappear down a door to his right, he thought he had won this staring contest. He pounced instantaneously, throwing himself into that room - but, as in all things, he found that he had placed far too much stock into the vibes of a cold machine that cared little whether he should stay or go, and he landed painfully, face first, on a frigid floor.

His cheek skidded, intimately close, over a few sharp bumps in the floor and so did the rest of him. The skin was not quite broken to the point of bleeding over what he learned were tiny, raised holes in the floor, but his cheek certainly stung as he touched the shredded, white layers of flesh on his face.

And then he saw The Master II, and he forgot everything else.

A number of things about this room should have caught Nan’s attention and immediately tipped him off to a further number of things though.

To begin, the door slammed closed immediately, loudly, after every inch of Nan made it through.

Secondly, the screen was nowhere to be found. It went through this door too, so shouldn’t it be here? Nan’s eyes did not catch the track on the ceiling right above the door, and the fact that it made a u-turn as soon as it got far enough inside to lure Nan in.

And lastly, perhaps the most glaringly obvious of all, was the fact that The Master II was stepping not out of a door into this room, but out of his TARDIS.

But what did it matter? What should it matter?

Nan wasted no time in scrambling to his feet though his forearm and knees stung too, which only made The Master II chuckle.

“Well, you got here fast,” said The Master II, voice deep and smooth like a cello. “What’s got you in such a hurry?”

The Tower’s son watched his former companion out of heavy-lidded eyes. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he went with the first, loudest thought on his mind. Impulsive as always, maybe he didn’t change one bit after all that nonsense with the Snow King.

“So… This is what you were hiding, is it?” Nan asked, still catching his breath and turning his nose up and gazing down at The Master II. “You’ve always had her waiting… Haven’t you? A– b-backup girl on the side, just– waiting in line, in case something went wrong with me. Right? Is that what I was to you? Just an _option?!_ ”

Watching the red-faced, out of breath demigod rant only amused The Master II even more. He let out a louder cackle, which, in turn, only filled Nan’s heart with more fire.

“… Well… ISN’T IT?” He shouted, stray strands of deep blue falling into his bright orange eyes. His lungs continued to tremble painfully every time he inhaled, and his face contorted with what looked a bit too much like concern. Or fear.

The Master II took a few steps closer towards the Tower’s son, smiling. “My dear friend… You know I have assets all over, this should be no surprise to you. But don’t you realize I only contacted her once you made it clear your heart had swayed from me? If you hadn’t disappeared from our fated meeting… Jezebel would have no need to be here.”

Nan’s face had no time to soften. Of course, his eyes widened in disgust and terror, which The Master II knew was a thin veil for recognition, but his teeth clenched and his brows knit together. His fists clenched too, and his back straightened in some subconscious attempt to get further away from his old companion.

“N. No. It’s not my fault that you did this.”

“Oh, but Nanatsuki, it _is_. If you had just stayed by my side… Well, you would have stayed. You would have proven you deserved a place at my side, I would never have had to doubt you and find someone stronger. But alas, someone stronger is always out there… Lucky for me, isn’t it? But as for YOU, Nanatsuki, you are getting just what you asked for.” The Master II’s hands settled on his hips, and a satisfied smile fell onto his lips. “That’s the problem with you, my friend. You think you can betray those around you, and come crawling back later as if nothing happened.”

As Nan’s mind descended further into fire, so did his hands. Thin, sheer flames licked up the sides of his fingers, too weak to burn his gloves - but before they could erupt and lash out, the Tower’s son felt a frigid shower on his back.

A pathetic yelp escaped Nan’s lips as he realized he was being ‘doused’, and before he could do much else but jump back into a straight position, the water was gone, draining into the holes below his feet. His eyes trailed up to the ceiling, watching a few stray droplets fall periodically onto his face. Then, one fell straight into his eye and he stumbled back, groaning and rubbing his face to no avail, with warm but wet gloves.

The Master II snickered, crossing his arms and approaching ever closer, and so he explained, “Fire… It’s a beautiful concept, isn’t it? Destructive, vivid, indiscriminate… It’s got the right idea. But it can’t be controlled. Fires are meant to be put out of their misery, Nanatsuki. We both know that. If fires were left unchecked, they’d leap up walls and burn everything in sight. That’s not exactly useful to me… Is it? As we both can see, your fire has lashed out back at me. And I can’t have that. I can’t have an operative so wild that he’d destroy _me_.”

Thoughtfully, he glanced back up at the dripping ceiling, and added, “You’d destroy yourself too, if you weren’t so damned selfish. But, truth be told, I think you’ve started on that path whether you like it or not.”

Nan was too lost in his own instincts to speak. He watched The Master II, the same horrified look on his face, but quickly glanced at the door and back. The Tower’s son reached carefully to his left, as if a gun was on the floor and The Master II would kill him where he stood if he so much as touched it. If he was so much as caught touching it, anyway.

Seeing that familiar ministration of Nan’s fingers just above the cold floor, The Master II scolded, “Ah-ah-ah… That’s not going to work either. We’re in the middle of outer space, my friend, there’s no soil in sight. Unfortunately, you cannot pollinate me to death out here.”

“WHAT IS _THAT_ SUPPOSED TO MEAN–” Nan called out, red-faced, but quickly interrupted by yet another thought.

“Oh PLEASE, I know what you think of me. Just because you’ve managed not to mangle me, that doesn’t mean I don’t know. You’re painfully obvious about your desires, Nanatsuki. Do you think you’re subtle?”

For once, the Master II’s gaze only made Nan want to look away and hide. He supposed that now, he had to officially admit it.

“… It’s. You’re not _wrong_ , it’s just.” Nan rolled his eyes at himself and snorted, deciding to try again. “Yes, I am a troubled and repressed man. What do you want from me?”

The Master II quirked a brow at him, still thoroughly unamused, and Nan decided to give it one last try.

“… Well. What does it matter? I don’t want anything to do with you or your body, now. I think you’re just trying to confuse me.” Despite his words approaching boldness, Nan averted his eyes fervently.

“It means the world, Nanatsuki,” said The Master II, starting to smile again, “Because _you’re not even a real person_.”

At this, Nan had to look. “Ex…cuse… me?”

“You heard me.” The Master II folded his hands behind his back, staring sternly at the Tower’s son. “You are not a real person. You are a vessel for your fetter, boy. You are nothing but a husk for the Snow King to inhabit, for the wicked Widow King to whisper occasionally in his impressionable ear. How can you think otherwise, when every facet of your current self was built… To impress me? There is no ‘real’ you, save the amalgamation of your many, many flaws.”

With nothing else to say, with nothing else to fear but terror and defeat, Nan simply said “… Liar. You’re lying.”

“I am certainly not lying. And the only reason you’re aware of this true state of yourself is because of your little friends. You know, the ones you broke my heart for…” In faux-sorrow, The Master II hung his head sideways and frowned. “But look on the bright side, my friend. You’re going to betray them, too, one day. You’ll find someone newer and shinier, who makes you feel even more special… And you’ll backstab them too one day, and the cycle will continue, endlessly. That is, if you ever get out of this place.”

The Master II took brisk strides back into his TARDIS, but he looked back once with a triumphant grin.

“Speaking of ‘backstabbing’… I was thinking of just drowning you in this room and never letting you out, but on second thought, let’s give you a little taste of the sorry state you left your dear old father in, when you betrayed him for me.”

And with that, The Master II stepped all the way inside his escape, and it began to fade in and out of existence, growing dimmer each time.

“Wait… What do you mea–”

Nan couldn’t even scream. The needles that emerged from every tiny hole in the room crushed him from every side, stabbing deep inside every centimeter of his body.


	3. a confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kainashi experiences some troublesome feelings that rowan needs to diagnose...!
> 
> wholesome fluff

Kainashi could hardly believe this was happening. The wrinkled texture of Rowan’s sleeve was incredible, even through the updated cyborg’s brown mini-gloves - and even more incredible, was the fact that Rowan’s arms were around him.

Nothing had exactly ‘happened’ - here the two of them were, standing awkwardly in each other’s arms in dim lamplight.

There was no way Kai was going to just come right out and say what was on his mind (I mean, right?), but the soft grimace on the doctor’s face was convincing.

“I notice you’ve been a bit… Clingier than you have in the past,” Rowan said, taking on an invitingly clinical tone - like his patient was about to be diagnosed with something worrisome, but he was here to help. “I was wondering what that was all about. Have you experienced any sort of emotional change with your most recent update?”

Kai’s newer, redder eyes slinked off to the wall beside him. His lips pursed into a little pout (legitimately for what purpose) as he answered, “I’ve… Felt more in tune with my own self. Less fear, less frustration. It’s still there to some degree, but – I can laugh, I don’t remember the last time I even smiled.”

The doctor’s eyes went up and to the right, perhaps trying to check on the lamp behind him without turning his head. “I see.”

With only a moment’s hesitation, Rowan found his forehead resting against Kai’s, their lips a comfortable distance apart. They didn’t need to be any closer. They didn’t need to rush.  
“I see,” repeated the doctor, “And any changes in your attitude towards me?”

Of course, he saw something different - but did Kai?

“I’ve… I haven’t minded your company quite as much. As in the past.” The cyborg tried not to bite his lip when Rowan’s pale fingers ran up his back.

“I see,” Rowan said again. “And when did you notice this?”

“Only just very recently–” The doctor’s awkward, poorly-trimmed nails poked through Kai’s snowy bedhead, grazing against his scalp - and Kai immediately hid his face in Rowan’s shoulder, gasping “Ever since my intelligence was updated, ever since I was born.”

A shaky, unsure chuckle crept out of Rowan’s throat. His fingers tangled up in Kai’s hair, giving the little cyborg shivers - and that hand pressed Kai’s head to his shoulder a bit more firmly.

“Interesting,” was all Rowan could say as he realized that Kainashi may as well have admitted to being desperately in love with him.


	4. a strange way to say sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the widow king catches his past abuser, or... something like him? and he's out for revenge. perhaps mildly sexy revenge. perhaps sexy revenge is a kink of mine. hm.

“I don’t know who you are,” growled Alvan Strict as he struggled against the ropes binding him to the cold plastic chair with its cold steel legs, “I don’t know who you think I am. I’ve never heard of anyone named ‘Daffodil’ in my life. Are you happy? Good. Now let me go. I’ve got an awful lot of wasting away to do, and I’d rather do it within the comfort of my own home rather than be kept by a psychopath with a vendetta.”

The Widow King’s eyes nearly bulged with the laughter he couldn’t help but cough up, his voice high and keening, his body bending over to catch the wind that had been knocked out of it. Alvan stared, and decided to keep that little 'I’m so glad I amused you’ thought to himself.

“Not so fast, old man. Now I know you’re Daffodil, you know much too much about me to be a stranger.” The smile on his face was so bitter it made Alvan shiver. And Alvan couldn’t take his eyes off the table behind the Widow King, the table too high for him to see exactly what was on it. The faint red lamp hanging from the ceiling caught a silver glitter off the table, and I would say that made Alvan very nervous, but for some reason, the part of his brain that could process anxiety seemed to be asleep at the moment. It’d been asleep… For a while, actually. He wouldn’t be able to tell you where it went.

The Widow King took something silver and glittering off his black table, about the length and thickness of a pencil. He ran it down his own finger, and Alvan could see the thin slit of red it left in the man’s skin. And the man didn’t even flinch. He just shivered and laughed, both reactions Alvan couldn’t chalk up to anything but genuine pleasure. Now, that was a little confusing. He asked, “You really expect me to believe you just don’t remember me? What you did to me?”

“I haven’t done a thing to you,” Alvan drawled. His jaw was slack, his eyes almost sleepy, “I do know you’ve taken me from my home and made me your prisoner for just about no reason, and you’ve still got the god-damned gall to say I done something to you, don’t you, boy?” Alvan’s eyebrows raised slightly, and he paid attention to the way the Widow King shuddered again, the way he hunched over, the way his arms wrapped around himself.

“You’ve always–” He paused, not able to stop his own breathless hiccup, “You’ve always been a liar. You’ve always– always lied to me about everything. You couldn’t– you couldn’t go a day without making me feel like I was losing my fucking mind, could you, Daffodil?” He laughed again, wheezy. “Nothing I ever did was good enough for you. The parties I chose to go to, the people I went with, the meals I made, the things I liked, the things I said, it was all just that exact kind of juvenile, uncultured, common plebeian shit you hate so much, wasn’t it?”

Alvan Strict had no idea what this man was talking about.

“Oh, but no, I’m the unstable one,” laughed the Widow King, throwing his hands up, “Sabotage all my fucking friendships like I wasn’t giving you enough 'attention’, break my shit, break our furniture, never tell me what you actually fucking WANT from me before you start punishing me like I’ve– I’ve been 'BAD’, like you’re my DAD and my fucking SON at the same time– HAHAha – and at the end of the day act all fucking sulky like I should be the one apologizing to you. But no, I’m the asshole. I’m the bad guy, I’m the one who abused you. Haha. I’m an abuser! Fucking– just say it.”

“Wh–what?” Alvan shook his head, realizing he spaced out a bit there, lost in that huge list of nonsense he just didn’t care about or have time for.

A white-hot pain erupted in Alvan’s shoulder and out his throat in the form of a guttural cry, bubbling over faintly and staining his coat a deeper brown, a deeper red than it was. He felt something thin and cold and silver and glittering against his stubbled, scab-ridden neck, but he couldn’t see the scalpel buried somewhere in the meat between his clavicle and - scapula? He didn’t remember 7th grade anatomy.

He thought the Widow King would explain himself, but… For a good, long few seconds, he just didn’t. He just had his other hand on Alvan’s shoulder, not even necessarily unkind in its firmness, pushing it down so he could stand stably. His lips just a couple inches from Alvan’s ear, breathing in and out shakily. Stopping in between a breath here and there like he had something to say, but nothing was said.

The Widow King pushed down harder on Alvan’s shoulders, both with his scalpel and his free hand - earning what sounded like a whimper from the man, which sounded absolutely fucking delicious to His Majesty’s violated ears - and lowered himself onto Alvan’s lap. Side-saddle. Leaving the scalpel exactly where it was, he wrapped his arms around Alvan’s neck and brought his lips close to his ear again.

“Daffodil,” he whispered so softly, so sweetly that Alvan shuddered all over, “I know you’re in there somewhere.”

Only making things all the more perplexing, he kissed Alvan’s ear. Bit his earlobe in a way that couldn’t even really be called painful. And kissed it again.

“You hurt me… So badly that it changed everything about me. You hurt me so badly, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust anyone like I trusted you again. I don’t know if I can love someone as wholly as I loved you, as… Fearlessly.” He chuckled lowly, and Alvan was almost starting to find his voice alluring. “Maybe that’s what you wanted all this time. Maybe you wanted to fuck me up so bad, I’d never love anyone else… And I’d come crawling back to you.”

The Widow King gave a thoughtful sigh. “I wouldn’t put it past you.” And he pulled down on the handle of the scalpel in Alvan’s shoulder, twisting it but not pulling it out, and Alvan yelped. His head even threw back. God. That’s heavenly.

“But that’s okay. Cause now… I’m going to hurt you,” he breathed in Alvan’s ear, his free hand stroking up the older man’s heaving chest. “I’m going to hurt you real bad.”


	5. shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> set in the dark ages of "'nam," a torture scene set between the older versions of rowan and kainashi - a cowardly murderer and a sinister manipulator respectively
> 
> [tw: mention of rumors as to a character being a pedophile, kidnapping, torture]

By the time Kainashi awoke, head lulling, neck complaining at his attempts to move from the spot it had become accustomed to, it was about midnight. That’s what he thought, because the room he was in was dark, and midnight sounded cool.

He also thought it was midnight, because, as someone who normally was a good boy and headed to bed at around 10pm, he noticed he felt just about deliriously tired upon waking up. Or maybe that was because, judging by the throbbing pain in his right temple, he had been knocked out. He felt a lot dirtier admitting that, though, and so he chose to ignore that possibility.

“You’ve awoken?” said someone tall, in a cautious murmur, bold enough to speak but almost afraid of offending the little bionic human with their volume. “Good, it’s about time.”

Kainashi would have recognized that testy, touchy voice anywhere.

With an irritated, sleepy twitch of his lips, the android finally managed to lift his head enough for his eyes to be useful.

What a wonderful thing assumptions are when they’re correct! And so he was there, Rowan Inspector-Matthews, surprising absolutely no one. Yet, the only people in this room were he and Kainashi.

That’s when Kainashi realized he was sitting up.

“I was a little afraid I hit you too hard, in the wrong place, maybe. But then I considered, maybe I could have injected the anesthesia just a centimeter off - I am an _alley_ doctor, anyway, you know that - or maybe it poisoned your blood, but you didn’t seem to be twitching or moving. So it was just a matter of time.”

That’s when Kainashi noticed the reason his hands were numb - they were tied behind his back, around the back of the chair he was propped up in like the used-up ragdoll he was.

“Sso…” Kainashi slurred, squinting, “Yyou wannna f-fffinish me off nnow, right…? I mmmaade too many wwiseccc-ccc-rack-hhs, I’ve bbeeen baad.” He laughed - cackled - in spite of himself, giving up on self-control.

Rowan seemed to flinch and frown. That’s what it looked like, anyway. “Mmmm, no, I don’t think that’s what I want now. I wanted that when I brought you here. But no. -"

“- Did you know?” The tall, white man paced slowly for a moment, speaking shakily again. “I remembered, I wanted that once. Not with you, some other.”

The bionic human laughed again, snorting ungracefully as he went. “Nnot surpriseddd. I'mmm soo not surrprrrised.”

Staring at his hand, ignoring Kainashi, Rowan went on. “That… Was the only way, don’t you see? Everyone was all over him. He was… Too shy to express what he really wanted. He needed a little push sometimes. You understand, don’t you?”

“Surre,” Kainashi shrugged, figuring this whole ordeal - being tied up by a man much taller than you, being forced to listen to his problems while he may or may not do horrible things to your body that not even the police speak of amongst themselves - it might as well fucking happen.

But Rowan’s face crumpled up strangely. Kainashi couldn’t make out anger or despair clearly on the man’s face. It seemed Kainashi answered incorrectly.

“No. You don’t understand,” the pale man growled viciously, more at himself than Kainashi, “That wasn’t it at all.” Pacing more quickly now, he roughly squeezed his wrist like a stress ball and went on. “He didn’t even know I existed. Didn’t care. Was probably too busy with that little girl. You know. The underaged one.”

Kainashi didn’t know, and he wasn’t ready to risk letting Rowan know of that.

And all at once, Rowan stopped walking, as if smiled upon by revelation.

“But that’s it. That’s why.”

He looked to Kainashi, smiling. It was terrible, awkward, uncanny, like he had never smiled in a mirror before in all his life, so Kainashi figured that was what a genuine Rowan smile looked like.

“That’s… Where you come in. I get it now, I understand all of it. All the stupid little quips, all the questions, questions, questions, the staring, all of it… You love me, don’t you?”

Kainashi shouldn’t have been able to remember the last time he felt terror like that. Rowan felt it, but he stepped forward, trying to fix the puppy he had just kicked.

“No, no, it’s alright, I get it. You’re shy, too. I can see that… You only ever talk in insults. But that’s okay, I can adjust! I understand now, you don’t have to be afraid.”

The pale man stroked Kainashi’s cheek, seeming to ignore the growing jitters both of them clearly felt.

He laughed nervously, murmuring, “That’s why. That’s why you’re here right now. You just needed a little push, right? It’s okay, I can give you something tangible. You’ll always remember what you feel for me every time you look in the mirror.”

With an upsetting sneakiness, Rowan managed to flick a scalpel at the bionic human’s cheek, drawing a pained hiss out of the boy in the chair.

“I can do more than that if you need more reassurance.” Rowan planted a brief, chaste kiss on Kainashi’s cold lips. “I can do so much more.”

The scalpel now pointed against the boy’s chest, already carving a thread or two of his coat just from the faint pressure Rowan applied.

“I…” Kainashi mumbled, his cheeks flashing and seeming to vibrate with static numbness. “I’m…”

“Yes?”

“Embarrassed for you.”


End file.
